Hiding Behind Glass
by Scare4irony
Summary: Tag to 9X07: He closes his eyes for a moment, mind battling with a decision. Looking at the black bag, he swallows feeling stupid, and half panics when he finds himself hovering outside Dean's room...Sam really hopes that Dean isn't going to hit him. (Angst and fluff - no slash)


AN: Tag to 9X07 Bad Boys. Angst/Fluff, between the brothers after they return from Sonny's. If you're interested, there's an explanation for why I wrote this at the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy ;)

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**HIDING BEHIND GLASS**

Dean walks inside, no doubt ready to dump his bag onto the floor and face plant into the mattress.

Sam knows this about Dean because he's been watching his big brother, ever since he could hold his own head up - which, as Dean likes to exaggerate, was the size of a small basketball - and track him around with big brown eyes, with a line of drool to boot.

Except, he's discovering that he doesn't know Dean as well as he'd like to believe, and clearly, his well-honed 'Dean-Watching' skills are…his ego wants to say 'rusty', but his conscious decides to supply him with more colourful, and probably more accurate descriptions, that lie along the lines of: _non-existent…laughable…shit. _

_"...We had some pretty great athletes come through here, including your brother. He was Sullivan county 135-pound wrestling champion…"_

Sam walks past Dean's room, seeing jean-clad legs dangling over the edge of the bed, and makes it to his own room. He plants his bag on the bed and rifles through its contents. Shirts tumble out first, followed by jeans and a rank pair of socks.

_"...Yeah. I made the mistake. Look, I know how you think. None of this was Dad's fault…"_

He remembers being picked up from school. The car gleaming in the sunlight and, he remembers asking about Dean because Dean was always in the passenger seat smirking as Sam heaved his bag into the car before himself. He remembers asking his dad again and receiving no response.

Their dad, John Winchester- ladies and gentlemen, a tight lipped bastard, who...shock courses through Sam as he pulls out the black plastic bag. His stomach twists into knots and he feels a little bit sick because...Christ, at the time, he had never loved his dad more than when he heard the gruff bark of orders to, _"get your stuff together Sam, I know where Dean is and he's alright." _

Except, Dean never went missing...John had known where his eldest was for the entire two months, and...it all makes sense now, why he never looked distraught, why he flinched every time Sam came up to him with big hopeful eyes, and couldn't do anything but leave with a pat to Sam's back and a low murmur of _"I'm sure he's fine. Sam, I'll find him._"

Bobby had been the one to tell him, three days after dad had dropped him off. He had just eaten PB&J sandwiches when Bobby sat next to him on the couch, truckers cap folded between his hands. At first, Sam laughed, because, just...no, Dean did not go missing on hunts - that wasn't possible. But then Bobby looked down. No hint of humour, or a delayed 'ha, just messing with you kid.'

And Sam remembers scooting forwards, hands braced on the edge of the couch as pain flared in his gut and chunks of PB&J splattered all over Bobby's old green rug.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Sam bites his lip, trying to push down a hint of resentment, because it isn't going to change anything, he can't go back, and change the past. Though he wishes that he actually carried out his plan to run away and find Dean - that was spoiled by Bobby who grabbed his shoulder just as he made it to the front door. With a sad sort of look in his eyes and a soft voice he was told to: _"Go to bed Sam. There ain't no need to tell your daddy that you're missing too. I promise, Dean'll be found." _

He closes his eyes for a moment, mind battling with a decision. Looking at the black bag, he swallows feeling stupid, and half panics when he finds himself hovering outside Dean's room.

_"...It was two months, Sam, okay? And I couldn't wait to get out of here. I don't know what to tell you. It wasn't me..." _

Sam really hopes that Dean isn't going to hit him.

"You gonna stand there all day?" Dean says, voice muffled by the doona.

Taking in a deep breath Sam steps in, ignoring curious green eyes that zoom onto the contents of his hands. "I...well, about Sonny's."

Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand over the lower half of his face as he stands up. "Christ, I swear you're like a dog with a bone."

"It's just, he said - well, me and him, talked a bit ...you were doing really well there. Sonny told me about school and wrestling...you had friends...you had a girl."

"Like I said Sam, it was my mistake."

"No. Don't play that angle, Dean." Sam fears that Dean can detect an undercurrent of anger in his voice, but he doesn't want Dean to dismiss this part of himself.

"Sam." Dean says. The tone hovers around a warning but Sam rolls on.

"Staying here meant something to you and..." He thrusts the bag out in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair. Dean makes no move to take it. His cheeks begin to pink, highlighting his tell-tale sign of embarrassment. "Just, take it, please."

"Man, I didn't know we were doing Christmas this early." Cautiously, Dean's hand curls around the bag, noting the heaviness that indicates that this is something more than just paper. Dean opens the bag, hands closing around a thin frame. His eyes focus on the print, in the distance he knows that Sam's beginning to babble.

_"...this place gave me a second chance, and it's done the same for you, too. So if you want, I'll stick my neck out for you, and I'll fight for you to stay…"_

"I know what you said, but...Dean, Sonny told me about the school dance, and...you could've stayed." Sam winces at the glare he receives. "You know what I mean - look, I meant what I said in the car. About you always having my back..."

Dean makes a non-committed noise, fighting the urge to let his fingers trace his name.

It was Sonny's idea to try out for wrestling; he said it'd allow him to control his anger.

"...it's not the original..." Sam confesses. "I didn't want to take it away from the house." From where you were happy and had an awesome life. "Sonny photocopied it for me, and found a frame too...and if you hate it and want to throw it away, that's completely cool, okay. I just, wanted you to have something...good."

Dean's quiet and at this stage, Sam's pretty sure he's gonna have the shit kicked out of him.

"Sam," Dean begins, finally looking up at Sam who is radiating waves of something akin to insecurity. He nods once and moves closer to his bookshelf.

Sam watches Dean's stiff movements, waiting with bated breath as the frame is seemingly held over the bin. His heart plummets past the soles of his shoes, mind flashing back to the amulet. Sam wants to flee, except his ears catch a scrape against wood and he looks up. The frame hasn't been dropped into the bin. Instead it sits up at the very end of a shelf next to a book about demonic possession and an old ratty softball that Dean found in one of the archives.

It's a soft, low rumble, only a few words that he has been striving for, practically his whole life. "You did good Sammy."

_"...And then it just - you know, the story became the story..."_

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AN: I don't know if I can explain the thought processes behind this, but I thought, SPN kinda cast Dean into this 'never gonna amount to much' sorta mentality, like when he talked about being a grunt in season eight, or from what we saw of him at school in 4X13's Afterschool Special - it's sorta, I am what I am. Which is fine, but I just sorta got the sense that he was proud of everything that he managed whilst staying with Sonny. I know that John had a storage locker of stuff belonging to the boys when they were younger - Sam's soccer trophy, Dean's sawed-off, but I feel like maybe, John stopped collecting, stuff? And I just really wanted Dean to have something good from his time at the house - wrestling was something that, I feel Dean willingly put the effort in for, so why shouldn't he have something to show for it. (Oh dear god, I'm just as bad as Sam, when it comes to explaining my reasoning) - maybe ignore this rambling. I hope you enjoyed the story, reviews, thoughts, critiques are taken with love.


End file.
